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■ ' FHHi 

LIFE AND ADVENTURES 


OF 


ROBERT YOORHIS, 


THE 


HERMIT OF MASSACHUSETTS, 
Who has lived 14 Years in a Cave, seclu¬ 


ded from human society. 

COMPRISING, 

An account of his Birth, Parentage, Sufferings, and 
providential escape from unjust and cruel Bond¬ 
age in early life—and his reasons for be¬ 
coming a Recluse. 


Taken from his own mouth, and published for his 


benefit. 


' 


11 


PROVIDENCE : 


Printed for h. trumbull— 
Price 12 1-2 Cents. 


3 







E444 

-V<U 


Co 


Pi 


2 


l 


DISTRICT of RHODE ISLAND, to wit; 
BE ft remembered, Thi't on the thirty.first day 
of January, one thousand eight hundred and twenty 
nine, a d in the y hfty third year of the Independence of th« 
United States of>meriea, H KNUY TRUMBULL of said Dis¬ 
trict, deposited dn this office the title of a book, the right 
whereof he claims as author, in the following words, to 
wit.—“ Life and Adventures of Robert the Hermit ofMassa- 
chusets, who has lived fourteen years in a cave secluded 
fiom human society, comprising an account of his B rth, Pa¬ 
rentage, Sufferings and providential eecape from unjust and 
cruel Bondage in early life : and his reasons for becoming a 
Recluse. Taken from his own mouth and published lor hie 
benefit 

In conformity to an act of Congress of the United States, 
entitled “ an act for the encouragement of learning by se¬ 
curing the copies of maps, charts and books to the authors 
and pioprietors of such copies during the time therein men¬ 
tioned, and also to an act entitled “ an act supplementary 
to an act entitled an act for the encouragement of learning 
by se uring the copies of maps, charts and books, to the 
authors and proprietors of such copies during the time there¬ 
in mentioned, and extending the benefits thereof to the arts 
of designing,engraving and etching historical and other prints. 
Witness, Benjamin Cowell, 

Clerk of the Rhode Island District. 


LIFE AND ADVENTURES 

OF 

ROBERT THE HERMIT. 

- ©- 


IT is a fact well known to almost every ie- 
habitant of Rhode Island, (hat on the summit of a 
hill, a few rods east of Seekonk river, (within the 
State of Massachusetts) and about two miles from 
Providence Bridge, has dwelt for many years, a 
solitary Hermit, bearing the name of Robert— 
and, although familiarly known to many of the in¬ 
habitants of Providence, and its vicinity, for his 
peaceable and agreeable disposition, yet, his history, 
as regards his birth, the cause of his seclusion, &c. 
has until very recently remained a profound se¬ 
cret! having carefully avoided answering any ques¬ 
tions relative thereto, of hundreds, who, prompted 
by curiosity, have been from time to time induced to 
visit his cave, or cell—and al hough very peaceable 
and civil in his deportment, he has (with the excep¬ 
tion of his occasional excursions to Providence, and 
the adjacent villages, to obtain food and necessaries) 
remained almost wnpervious in his retreat. 

Many and various have been the conjectures of 







6 


LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 


the most curious and inquisitive of the Rhode Island¬ 
ers, (in the neighborhood of whose State he lives,) 
respecting this (i strange and mysterious being,*’ and 
while some few have unjustly harboured an opinion 
that he h id perpetrated crimes of a henious nature, 
for which he was doing penance—others, have a- 
vowed in opposition to this, that his whole deport¬ 
ment was so perfectly calm, and his countenance so 
serene, that it was impossible that so fair a tenant, 
could harbour a soul of darkness and criminality. 

The first information which the writer ever re¬ 
ceived of this extraordinary character, was through 
the medium of one of the Providence prints, con¬ 
taining some'well written remarks relating to him, 
and which we have thought proper here to republish 
in confirmation of the fact stated, that, until very 
recently “ Robert the Hermit” has uniformly refus¬ 
ed to gratify the curiosity of any of his visitors, a^S 
regarded his "hativity, history, &c. 

From the Literary Cadet of June 1826. 

f ‘ Beneath a mountain’s brow, the most remote 
And inaccessible by Shepherds trod, 

In a deep cave, dug by no mortals hands 

An Hermit lived,—a melancholy man 

Who was the wonder of our vvand’ring swains ,: 

Austere and lonely—cruel to himself 
They did report him—the cold earth his bed. 

Water his drink, his food the Shepherd’s alms, 

I went to see him, and my heart was touched. 

With reverence and with pity. Mild he spake. 

And entering on discourse, such stories told, 

As made me oft re-visit his sad cell.” uombs’ douolas. 

“ On the declivity of a hill, which overlooks the 
pellucid waters of the Seekonk River in a rude cell, 
resides a Hermit, whose history is as inexplicable 
as his affected account of himself is mysterious. His 
name is Robert, but to what country he belongs, 
of what are the inducements which have led him te 


ROBERT THE HERMIT. 


1 

leaf! the solitary life of a Hermit, no one knows, and 
the fact puts conjecture at a hazard. Certain it is, 
however, that he is not a native of New-England ; 
and that he is not by education or by principle at¬ 
tached to our habits or our institutions the whole 
course of his life, since he has been with us, has 
abundantly proven. 

It is now about eighteen years, since he first visi¬ 
ted us, and took up his abode in a thick pine grove, 
which threw its luxurious foliage over the brow of 
Arnold’s Hill, and from that day to this, be has care¬ 
fully avoided answering any questions, which might 
lead to a discovery of his history—or gratify the cu¬ 
riosity of the inquirer. 

Months, years and days pass by him unnoticed 
and unregarded, and it is only on extraordinary oc¬ 
casions, that he emerges from the confines of his so- 
latary hermitage. In the Spring he sometimes oc¬ 
cupies himself in laborious employment—such as 
attending gardens for the neighborhood ; but so re¬ 
gardless is he of the things of this world, that he 
cares not whether his labors are rewarded or nof, 
by those who receive the benefits of them. 

Unused to the luxuries or extravagancies oflife a 
he contents himself with the simplest food and such 
as the bountiful hand of nature supplies. The meats 
and intemperate liquids of social 1 fe, are unknown 
to him, 

“ But from the mountain's grassy side 
A guiltless feast he brings ; 

A scrip with herbs and fruits supplied. 

And water from the springs.” 

In summer, he cultivates a small lot of land, which 
he is kindly allowed to posses?, by the Hon. Mr. 
Burges, the owner of the e-date on w hich the her¬ 
mitage is located ; but he rarely allows the pbmts to 
arrive at maturity, before he plucks them from the 


LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 


8 

earth, and throws them to the cattle that feed around 
his lonely mansion. What should induce him to thus 
destroy what he has often been at great labor to 
cultivate, he assigns no reason, nor can any one 
form a reasonable conjecture. His cell is decorated 
with various shells and bones, and is scarcely ca¬ 
pable of accommodating himself alone; and the fur¬ 
niture with which it is supplied, consists of a stool, 
an oaken bench, on which he reposes, and two or 
three pieces of broken delf ware, it is as gloomy, as 
darkness and solitude can make it, and appears to 
be admirably fitted for a misanthrope and a recluse. 

In winter he seldom emerges from his solitary 
mansion, but silently and patiently waits ior time to 
introduce the vernal Spring, and to bring about that 
joyful season, when once more he can rove around 
the adjacent woodlands and meads. The rays of the 
sun never enter the portals of his domicil, and at 
mid-day it assumes all the darkness of midnight* 
Content with his situation, and at peace with all, 
he quietly looks forward for the arrival of that day, 
when he shall “bid the waking world good night,” 
and find in countries unexplored, that happiness 
which life has denied him. 

His cell is surrounded by a thick set hedge, 
wrought of wild briars and hemlock, and displays 
much ingenuity and taste It is in a most romantic 
situation, some distance from any human habitation, 
and not often annoyed by the gaze of the curious, 
or the mischievous visits of the hoys, for they all 
love poor Robert. It is well worth the trouble of 
those who are fond of the curious, and are pleased 
with noticing the excentricities of frail mortality to 
Visit the abode of ‘Robert the Hermit.” [O^The 
preceding are the remarks alluded to, contained in 
the Cadet of 1826, and which we doubt not were 
from the able pen of the Editor of that paper, at the 
date mentioned. | 


ROBERT THE HERMIT. 


9 


It was not until within a few weeks that the writer 
was induced to visit the lonely and solitary retr e <*t 
of poor Robert,”—by the urgent solicitations of 

a few who had long known him, and not without 
hopes that lie might possibly be prevailed upon to 
disclose some of the most extraordinary incidents 
of his life, for publication, if assured that he was to 
reap a benefit thereby (for great indeed are his pre¬ 
sent wants,) the writer was induced to visit him for 
this purpose. It was about 11 o’clock fn the fore¬ 
noon when I reached his habitation, and on remov- * 
ing a small rougfi board supported by a leathern 
hinge, and which closed the only passage to his dark 
and gloomy cell, I discovered him in about the cen¬ 
tre, seated on a wooden block, in an apparent rev¬ 
erie. 

I accosted him in a friendly manner, and he with 
much civility, bid me welcome ; and as if willing to 
permit me to satisfy that curiosity which he no doubt 
supposed had alone prompted me (as it had hundreds 
of others) to visit him, he with much apparent good 
humour invited me to enter, and accept of his seat, 
when, as he observed, I would have a better oppor¬ 
tunity to inspect the internal part of his lonely hab¬ 
itation—an invitation of which I accepted—and, af¬ 
ter making known to him the true object of my vis¬ 
it, and with assurances that it was produced by the 
most urgent solicitations of one or more of his friends, 
who had expressed, and I believed sincerely felt an 
interest in his welfare, so far at least as to render 
his situation more comfortable—I begged that he 
wobld gratify me with a brief narration of his life, and 
inform me what powerful cause had arose to induce 
him to quit the pleasures of society, and consign hie 
days to voluntary seclusions ?—to which, after a 
considerable pause, and with his eyes fixed steadfast 
upon me, as if to satisfy himself that what I had stated 


40 


LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 


was spoken in sincerity, he made the following re¬ 
ply—“ that is a relation with which 1 have declined 
indulging any one, as the enquiry seemed merely 
made to gratify idle curiosity ; but, as you speak a* 
if you could feel sympathy for distress, i will briefly 
gratify your request: — 

“ 1 was born in Princeton (New Jersey) in the 
year 1759 or’70, and was born, as was my mother 
(who was of African descent,) in bondage ; although 
my father, as has been represented to me, was not 
only a pure white blooded Englishman, but a gentle¬ 
man of considerable eminence—I had no brother# 
and but one si ter, who *vas three years older than 
myself ; but of her, as of my mot ler, I have but a 
faint recollection, as I in my infancy was included in 
the patrimonial portion of my master’s oldest daugh¬ 
ter, on her marriage to a Mr. John Voorhis, by 
biith a German, tv hen but four years of age 1 was 
convoyed bv my master to Georgetown (District of 
Columbia.) to which place he removed wi h his fam¬ 
ily, and never have I since been enabled to learn 
the fate of mv poor mother or sister, whom, it is 
not very improbable, death has long since removed 
from f heir unjust servitude. 

At the age of 14 or 15, my master apprenticed 
me to a Shoemaker, to ob ain if possible a knowl¬ 
edge of the nr! ; but making but little proficiency, 
he. again t >ok me upon his plantation, where my 
time, was mostly employed in gardening until about 
the age. o nineteen. It was at that age, that I be¬ 
came first acquainted with an agreeable young fe¬ 
male (an orph n) by the name of Alley Penning¬ 
ton, a native of Cecil county, (Maryland)—she 
firM expres-ed her attachment for me, and a wil¬ 
ling) 'S< to become my partner for life, provided I 
could obtain mv freedom, nor can I say that 1 felt 
less attachment for oue with whom l was confident 


ROBERT THE HERMIT. 


11 


I could spend my life agreeably—she was indeed 
the object of my first love, a love which can only 
be extinguished with my existence ; and never at any 
period previous was the yoke of bondage more goard- 
ing, or did l feel so sensibly the want of that free¬ 
dom, the deprivation of which, was now the only 
barrier to my much wished for union witli one 1 so 
sincerely and tenderly loved. 

As my master had uniformly expressed $m unwil* 
lingness to grant me my freedom, on ; ny other terms 
than receiving a suitable compensation therefor, my 
only alternative now to obtain it, was to apply t© 
one with whom I was most intimately acquainted, 
anti to whom I thought 1 could safely communicate 
my desires, as he had in more than one instance# 
expressed m ch regard for me, and a willingness to 
serve me—to him 1 proposed that he should pay 
to my master the stipulated sum (f ifty Pounds.) de¬ 
manded for my freedom, and that the bill of sole 
should remain in his hands, until such time ns I 
should he enabled by the fruits of my industry t© 
repay him, principal and interest, and allow him a 
suitable compensation therefor for his trouble— to 
this proposal he very readily as?.ented, and not only 
expre-sed Ins willingness but his approbation of my 
much desired union with my beloved Alley. My 
request was immediately complied with, the Fifty 
Pounds were paid by my good friend (as l then sup¬ 
posed him.) to whom l was by bond traesfered as 
his lawful property, and by whom I was given to 
understand that I might then seek business for my¬ 
self, and turn rn> attention to any that I should con¬ 
ceive the rnosi profitable, and consider myself under 
no other bondage than as a debtor, to die amount 
paid for my f edo.n. The name of one who had 
m mT‘S ed so much what I supposed real and disin¬ 
terested friendship ior me, but who dually proved 


j 2 life and adventures of 


the author of almost all the wretchedness, which I 
have since endured, ought not to be concealed—it 
WM8 James Bevens 

Feeling inyseli now almost a free man, I did not, 
as may be supposed, suffer many hours to elapse 
befoie l hastened to bear the joyful tidings of my 
good fortune, to one, who, as 1 had anticipated, re¬ 
ceived it with unfeigned demonstrations of joy ; and 
who, so far from exhibiting an unwillingness to full- 
fill her promise, yielded her hand without reluctance 
or distrust—we were married, lawfully married, and 
more than three years of domestic felicity passed a- 
vvay, without a misfortune to ruffle our lepose —in 
the course of which the Almighty had not only been 
pleased to bless us with two children, but my¬ 
self with so great a share of good health, as to 
have enabled me by my industry, to earn and re¬ 
fund a very considerable portion of the fifty pound* 
paid by Bevins for my freedom—of these sums 1 had 
neither made any charge, or took any receipts—in 
this I was brought to see my error, but, alas ! too 
late. 

Bevins, as I have stated, was a man in whom I 
had placed implicit confidence, and indeed until the 
period mentioned, supposed him, as regarded my¬ 
self, incapable of any thing dishonorable, much less 
of being the author of as great an act of cruelty and 
injustice, as ever was recorded in the catalogue of 
human depravity ! 

It was late one evening, an evening never to be 
forgotten by me, while sitting in the midet of my 
innocent and beloved family, amused with the prat¬ 
tle of my eldest child, anil enjoying all the felicity 
which conjugal love and parental affection are pro¬ 
ductive of, that this monster in human shape (Bevins) 
accompanied by another, entered, seized and pinion¬ 
ed me ! and gave me to understand that 1 was intend- 


ROBERT THE HERMIT. 


13 


ed for a Southern market!! It is impossible for me 
to describe my feelings or those of my poor distract¬ 
ed wife, at that moment ! it was in vain that I in- 
treated, in vain that I represented to Bevins that he 
had already received a very great proportion of the 
sum paid for my freedom—to which the ruffian made 
no other reply, than pronouncing me a liar, dragged 
me like a felon from my peaceable domicil—from 
my beloved family—whose shrieks would have pier¬ 
ced the heart of any one but a wretch like himself! 

In the most secret manner, at eleven at night, I 
was hurried on board of a Schooner, where addition¬ 
al miseries awaited me!—for fear of an escape, I 
found that irons were to be substituted for the ropes 
with which they had bound me ! and while a person 
was employed in riveting them, I improved the op¬ 
portunity, which I thought probably would be the 
last, to address the author of my miseries, in words 
nearly as follows ;—“ are these the proofs, master 
Bevins, of the friendship which you have professed 
forme! tell me I pray you, what have I done to 
merit such barbarous treatment from your hands ? 
nothing, no nothing! I have nothing wherewith to re¬ 
proach myself but my own credulity !”—to this he 
made no reply ; shackled and handcuffed, I was pre¬ 
cipitated into the hold of the schooner, by the mo¬ 
tion of which I perceived was soon under way, and 
bearing me l knew not whither! So far from feel¬ 
ing an inclination to sleep, it was to me a night of 
inconceivable wretchedness ! I could here nothing 
but the shrieks of my poor disconsolate wife, and 
the moans of her helpless children! indeed such 
was my imagination—alas ! he alone can have a just 
eonception of my feelings who may have been pla¬ 
ced in a similar situation, if such a person can be 
found on earth. 

In three days (during which no other lood was 
C 


14 life and adventures of 


allowed me but a few pounds of mouldy bread) the 
Schooner reached the port of her destination— 
Charleston, S. C.—and from which, without being 
relieved of my irons, I was conveyed to and" lodged 
in prison, where I was suffered to remain in soli¬ 
tude five days—from thence I was conducted to a 
place expressly appropriated to the sale of human 
beings ! where, like the meanest animal of the brute 
creation, I was disposed of at public auction to the 
highest bidder ! 

Resolved on my liberty, and that I would not let 
pass unimproved the first opportunity that should 
present, to regain it, I did not remain with my pur¬ 
chaser long enough to learn his name or the price 
paid for me ; who, to win my affections, and the 
better to reconcile me to my situation, professed 
much regard for me and made many fair promises, 
(not one of which it is probable he ever intended to 
perform,) and the better to deceive me, voluntarily- 
granted me the indulgence tolvalk a few hours un¬ 
guarded and unattended about the city ; supposing, 
no doubt, that it would be impossible for me to re¬ 
gain my liberty, as no coloured person was allowed 
to proceed beyond the limits of the city, without 
a well authenticated pass—of this 1 was not ignor¬ 
ant, and therefore sought other and less dangerous 
means to escape, for 1 felt that death in its worst 
forms would be far preferable to slavery. 

1 carlessly strolled about the wharves among the 
shipping, where I at length was so fortunate as to 
find a Sloop bound direct to Philadelphia-—she had 
completed her lading, her sails were loosed and ev¬ 
ery preparation made to haul immediately into the 
stream—watching a favourable opportunity, while 
the hands were employed forward, 1 unperceived 
ascended and secreted myself between two casks in 
the hold—all beneath was soon well secured by the 


ROBERT THE HERMIT. 


15 


hatches, and I had the satisfaction to find myself in 
leiS than three hours, from the time that I was pur¬ 
chased like a bale of goods at auction, stowed snug¬ 
ly away, and with fair prospects of regaining my 
liberty ! it was at that moment that a secret joy 
diffused itself through my soul—I found unexpected 
consolation and fortitude, produced by a firm per¬ 
suasion that by the assistance of a divine provi¬ 
dence, I should accomplish my deliverance. 

Early in the morning of the fourth day from that 
of our departure, we were safely moored along side 
of one of the Philadelphia wharves. During the 
passage of three days and one night, my only nour¬ 
ishment had been about one gill of spirits, contain¬ 
ed in a small viol, with which l occasionally moist¬ 
ened my lips, for on the third day my thirst had 
become intolerable. 

I was as fortunate in leaving the sloop unsuspect¬ 
ed or undiscovered, as I had been in secreting my¬ 
self on board of her, and as soon as safely on shore, 
my first object was to procure lodgings and some¬ 
thing to satisfy the cravings of nature, at a boarding 
house for seamen. Representing myself as belong¬ 
ing to a coaster, I was not suspected as any other 
than a free man. As l had heard much of the hos¬ 
pitality of the Quakers (or Friends,) and as a class 
who were the zealous advocates for the emancipa¬ 
tion of their fellow beings in bondage, to one of 
them, on the very day of my arrival, I made my 
situation known, concealing nothing ; and begged that 
he would interest himself so far in my behalf as to 
advise me what I had best do, to secure my per¬ 
son from further arrest by unjust claimants, and to 
restore to me my bereaved and afflicted family. 

The good man listened with much apparent at* 
tentimi to my story, and seemed somewhat affected 
thereby, and so far from exhibiting any disposition 


16 life and adventures of 


to discredit any part of it, presented me with half 
a crown, and requested me to call on him in the 
forenoon of the next day, by which time (as he said) 
he would have an opportunity to consult some of hia 
brethren, by whom he thought steps would be taken 
to redress my wrongs—nor have I any reason to be 
lieve that he promised more than he intended to 
perform, and I believe that by these good people I 
should have been effectually freed from the shackles 
of slavery, had not another melancholly instance of 
adverse fortune, placed me in a situation not to com¬ 
ply with his request. Returning to my lodgings in 
the evening, I was accused (jocosly, as I at first sup¬ 
posed) by the inmates of the house, of being a run¬ 
away slave ! still however persisting in my former 
story, that I was free and belonged to a coaster, but 
being unable to reply satisfactorily to theirenquiries, 
as to the name and place of destination of the vessel, 
I was committed to prison and advertized as a sus¬ 
pected runaway. 

By what means my pretended master obtained in¬ 
formation of my situation, I could never learn, for 
after nine days close confinement in prison (during 
which I was not permitted to communicate with any 
one but the goaler) I was once more strongly ironed 
and delivered over to the charge of the captain of a 
Charleston packet—to which port as it proved she 
was bound direct. It will not be necessary to in¬ 
form you that my treatment was no better than what 
I had received on my late passage from Maryland 
—nor do I know that I could have reasonably expect¬ 
ed any better, from those who probably considered 
coloured peoplt as free from feelings as understand¬ 
ings. As soon as we reached Charleston, I was 
conducted to and delivered over to my reputed mas¬ 
ter, who had however in m}' absence, as it appear¬ 
ed, become somewhat sick of his purchase, for the 


ROBERT THE HERMIT- 


17 

next da}* I was with two or three others similarly sit¬ 
uated, exposed to sale at public auction. 

The person by whom 1 was next purchased, was 
a Dr. Peter Fersue, a man of considerable wealth, 
and who, had it not been obtained by the toils oi his 
fellow creatures in bondage, might trave passed for 
one not entirely devoid of humanity ; for I must say, 
in jnstice to him, that it was remarked that those 
who were held in bondige by him, were treated 
with less severity than those possessed by some of 
his neighbors. Perceiving that I was not a little 
dissatisfied with my situation, and that I possessed 
a partial knowledge of letters (which I had acquir¬ 
ed previous to my marriage) through fear probably 
that I might instill into the minds of some of my 
fellow slaves, principles, which might ultimately 
prove to his disadvantage, I was selected as a house 
servaot, and consequently exempted from many of 
the privations to which the other slaves were ex¬ 
posed—yet, l became no more reconciled to my 
situation, nor felt any degree of attachment for him, 
as I could but view it as an act of injustice as well as 
of inhumanity in dooming me to slavery—owing my 
existence to one, who, agreeable to the laws of the 
land, was born free, and having afterwards obtained 
my freedom by a fair and legal purchase of my mas¬ 
ter, l did not doubt but that 1 was unwarantably 
held in servitude, and that had not the unprincipled 
Bevins evailed himself of darkness (because the deed 
was evil) in conveying me away, he would have re¬ 
ceived his just deserts from the good people of 
Georgetown for by them 1 was generally respected 
as one anxious to obtain by honest industry an 
humble support for a dependent family. 

Freedom, the gift of Heaven, was too highly 
prized by me. to permit any thing of less jimpor 
fcance to occupy my mind—but, great as were my 


18 * LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 

desires to enjoy it, with him by whom I was wrong¬ 
fully claimed, I spent eighteen months in servitude, 
before an opportunity presented to obtain it. The 
means by which 1 was fin - IIy enabled to effect my 
escape, were very similar to those which I had 
practiced in my last attempt—I succeeded in secret¬ 
ing myself in the hold of a brig ready laden, and 
bound direct to Boston (Massachusetts,) and without 
an opportunity to provide myself with a drop of 
water, or a morsel of food of any kind, on which 
to subsist during the passage. 

Although the place of my concealment afforded 
nothing better on which to repose than a water cask, 
yet I found my birth not so uncomfortable as one 
would naturally imagine, and I was enabled to en¬ 
dure the calls of hunger and thirst, until the close 
of the fifth day from that of our departure, when 
the latter became too oppressive to be longer en¬ 
dured—had I then possessed the wealth of the In- 
dias, it appeared to me, that 1 should have made -a 
willing exchange for a draught of sweet water! 
not however until nearly deprived of my senses, did 
1 feel willing to make my situation known to those 
on board—on the reflection, that should it even cost 
me my life, that an instantanious death would be pre¬ 
ferable to a lingering one, I seized a fragment of 
a hoop, with which I crawled to and commenced 
thumping upon a beam near the hatchway, at the 
same time hallooing as loud as the strength of my 
lungs would admit of—soon I was heard by the hands 
on deck, and while some broke out in exclamations 
of wonder and surprise, others ran affrighted to the 
cabin, to proclaim to the captain the fact that “ the 
brig was most certainly haunted, and had become the 
habitation of bodiless spirits, as one or more were 
at that moment crying out lamentably in the hold !” 
<s3ri>odiless spirits they no doubt concluded they imist 


ROBERT THE HERMIT. 


19 

be, for the hatches being so well secured with a tar- 
poim, none other, as they supposed, could have ob¬ 
tained access. 

The captain less superstitiously inclined, order¬ 
ed the hatches to be immediately raised, but so great 
was the terrour of the sailors, that it was sometime 
before any could be found of sufficient courage to o- 
bey. 

The hatches were no sooner removed t*han I pre¬ 
sented myself to their view, trembling through fear, 
pale as death, and with hardly strength sufficient to 
support myself! —my appearance was indeed such as 
almost to confirm the superstitious opinion of the 
sailors, that the brig must certainly be haunted, 
for in me they beheld, as they supposed, nought 
but an apparition ! the ghost, probably, of some unfor¬ 
tunate shipmate, who on a former voyage for some 
trifling offence, had been privately and wickedly pre¬ 
cipitated from the brig’s deck into the ocean !—such 
indeed is the weakness and superstition peculiar to 
many of that class of people, who follow the seas 
for a livelihood. 

Those on board became however a little less in¬ 
timidated, when I assured them that I intended them 
no harm, and was no other than one of the most un- 
fortuaate and miserable of human beings, who had 
sought that means to escape from unjust and cruel 
bondage ! and then briefly related to them, at what 
time and in what manner 1 succeeded in secreting 
myself unnoticed in the brig’s hold ; where it was 
my intention to have remained, if possible, until her 
arrival at the port of her destination—and concluded 
with begging them for mercy's sake, to grant me a 
bucket of fresh water! for, indeed, such was my 
thirst, that a less quantity it appeared to me would „ 
have proved insufficient to have allayed it. 

The captain (who very fortunately for me, prov- 


20 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 


ed to be a Quaker, and with all the tender feeling pe¬ 
culiar to that excellent class of people) gave orders 
to his men to treat me with kindness, and to assist 
me on deck, for I had now become so weak and e- 
maciated by long fasting, that I w 7 as scarcely able 
to help myself. “ Thy wants shall be supplied (said 
the good captain, addressing himself to me) but such 
is thy present weakness, that thee must eat and drink 
sparingly, or it may be worse for thee !”—this man 
was truly in practice, as well as by profession, a 
Christian—for had he been rny father, he could not 
have treated me with more tenderness and compas¬ 
sion—he would allow me but a single, gill of water 
at a draugh, and that quantity but twice in an hour, 
although five times that quantity would not have sat¬ 
isfied me—and the food allowed me was apportioned 
accordingly. 

In two days after we reached Boston, where I w r as 
landed, with permission of the captain to proceed 
w hither I pleased ; not however until he had impart¬ 
ed to me some friendly advice, to be cautious with 
whom I associated on shore, and as I valued my lib¬ 
erty, not to frequent such parts of the town as was 
inhabited by the most vicious and abandoned of the 
human race—with which he presented me with some 
ohange, and bid me farewell, and never to my knowl¬ 
edge have I since had the happiness to meet with 
this good man ; who, long ’ere this, has probably 
been numbered with the just, and if so, is now I trust 
reaping the reward of his good deeds in another and 
better world. 

Unacquainted then w j ith the laws of New-England, 
and fearful that it might not be safe to tarry a Jong 
while in a place so populous as Boslon before sun¬ 
set of the same day 1 crossed the bridge leading to 
Charlestown, with an intention of proceeding as far 
east as Portland—I tarried that night at Lynn, and 


ROBERT THE HERMIT. 


21 

at about 10 o’clock the next morning reached Salem, 
where 1 concluded to remain until the morning en¬ 
suing. 1 applied to a b • i ding house for seamen for 
some refreshment, and bespoke lodgings for the night, 
and in the course of the day met with a gentleman 
who was in quest of hands fora voyage to India. As 
my small funds were now nearly exhausted, I thought 
this not only a favourable opportunity to replenish 
them, but to place myself beyond the reach of my 
pretended masters of the south, should they extend 
their pursuit of me as far east as Massachusetts— 
to him I therefore offered myself fop the voyage, and 
was accepted. 

It cannot be expected that I can recollect, or fs 
it necessary for me to state every minute circum¬ 
stance that attended me on this voyage, an d I will 
only remark, that although afresh hand, and totally 
unacquainted with seamanship, 1 succeeded in the 
performance of my duty beyond my expectations, 
and I believe not only to the satisfaction of my offi¬ 
cers, but gained the esteem and good will of my 
shipmates on board—in proof of this, there is one 
circumstance that I ought not fail to mention—when 
about to cross the line where sailors generally cal¬ 
culate to receive a formal visit from Neptune, the 
aged Monarch of the deep made his appearance as 
usual, and with little ceremony introduced himself, 
on board, and while others (who had never before 
been honored with an interview with his majesty) 
were compelled to yield to the unpleasant severities 
of a custom prescribed by him, 1 was, by the in¬ 
tercession of my shipmates, so fortunate as to es¬ 
cape. 

After an absence of about fourteen months the 
ship returned in safety to Salem, and with the loss 
I believe of but one man—when discharged, my wa¬ 
ges were punctually paid me, which amounted to a 
D 


22 


LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 


sum not only much greater than what I had ever 
fore been in possession of, but a sum much more 
considerable than what l once ever expected to pos¬ 
sess !—there was indeed as I then thought, but one 
thing wanting to complete my happiness (to wit.) the 
presence of my poor unfortunate family !—with this 
money, thought I, how comfortable could I render 
the situation of my beloved Alley, and my not less 
beloved children ! who, while 1 at this moment have 
enough and to spare, it is not improbable, if living, 
are enduring all the miseries that poverty and oppres¬ 
sion are productive of l—reflections like these were 
sufficient to depress my spirits, and to deprive me of 
that enjoyment, which sailors so abundantly partici¬ 
pate in on their return from a long voyage to their 
fhvnrite port. 

I remained on shore but a short time when I ship¬ 
ped for a second voyage to India—and, would here 
briefly state, without entering into particulars, that 
from this period for nine years, I continued to sail 
as a common hand from the ports of Boston and Sa- . 
Iem, to different ports in Europe and India—in which 
time I never once suffered shipwreck, or met with 
any very serious disaster!—it is not improbable that 
there are at the present day, some of my old Com¬ 
manders and Shipmates still living in or about Boston 
and Salem, who may have some recollection of 
“ Robert.” 

After my return from my first voyage, I became 
acquainted with and commenced board in the family 
of a respectable elderly widow woman, who afford¬ 
ed decent tare, although in very moderate circum¬ 
stances—the family was composed of the old lady 
and three daughters, of the ages of eighteen, twen¬ 
ty one and twenty-five—it was their house that I 
continued to “ hail” as my home, whenever I re¬ 
turned to port, and so long as I remained onshore ; 


ROBERT THE HERMIT. 


28 


and, almost destitute as I was at this time of other 
friends, it is not, as I deem it, very extraordinary 
that I should feel more than a common degree of 
regard and attachment for the family, and that that 
attachment should finally lead to a greater intimacy 
—this was indeed the case, and on my return from 
my second voyage, l entered into the bands of matri¬ 
mony with one of the daughters—the marriage cere¬ 
monies were performed by a Justice Putnam, of 
Danvers. Here, in justification of myself, for having 
consented to become the husband of another, when 
there was a possibility of my first wife being alive, 

I must state that there were two great inducements— 
one, that I was strongly urged so to do by those who 
undoubtedly had authority to use compulsory means 
had I declined---and the other, that I had now given 
up all hopes and expectations of ever meeting a- 
gain in this world, her, who was the first object of 
my pledged love. 

The day after my marriage I rented a small ten- 
ament, which I gave my mother and her daughters 
liberty to occupy with my wife in my absence, for 
in three days after l was once more on my favor¬ 
ite element, bound to India—previous to my depar¬ 
ture however I made ample provision for the sup¬ 
port of my family, and left a request with the gen¬ 
tleman in whose employ I sailed, to allow them a 
portion of my wages*, in my absence, which was 
strictly complied rvith. The voyage proved as usu¬ 
al prosperous, and on my return was received by 
my friends, not only with the most lively r demon¬ 
strations of joy, but with the tidings that I had in 
my absence, for the third time, become a father. 

\ remained on shore about three months, and 
s-uch was the harmony that prevailed between us,, 
and such the kind treatment that I received from 
my companion, that it would have been cruel to 


24 


LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 


have doubted her love and affection for me. At 
the expiration of the three months. I once more with 
considerable reluctance bid her adieu, and shipped 
on board the Herald, capt. Derbv, bound from Bos¬ 
ton to Canton ;—on this voyage I was absent but a- 
bout eighteen months, from the time that we left 
Boston, which was our port of entry on our return. 

As soon as discharged I hastened to Salem with 
the fruits of my toil* and with fond expectations of 
being welcomed once more to my peaceful home, 
by one who had so repeatedly expressed her love 
•and regard for me—but, alas, sadly was 1 disappoint¬ 
ed !—for true it is, that she who l had supposed al¬ 
most an angel in disposition, had in my absence been 
transformed to a demon ! Cold indeed was trie re¬ 
ception that 1 met with---so f^r from expressing 
or manifesting the least degree of joy or satisfaction 
on the occasion (although I had been between one 
nnd two years absent) I was insultingly told by her 
that “ if 1 had never returned she would have been 
the last to lament it 

The cause of this surprizing and unexpected al¬ 
teration in one, whom, from the moment she became 
my wife, I had treated with so much regard and af¬ 
fection, I was never able to learn—although 1 did 
not and could not feel that ardent affection for her, as 
for one who was the object of my first love, yot 
my affection for my child was as great as that for 
my first born—for this l felt willing to make almost 
any sacrifice, could a reconciliation have been there¬ 
by effected ; but it could not, and a final seperation 
was the consequence. I continued in Salem eight 
or ten months longer, supporting myself with the 
fruits of what 1 obtained by labour on board vessel^, 
on the wharves, &c. and then, with light feet hut 
with a heavy heart, started in quest of new friends 
; nd a new home, bending my course southerly. 


ROBERT THE HERMIT. 


25 


1 made no longer tarry on the road than to obtain 
refreshments, until I reached' Providence (Rhode 
Island) where I made application for, and obtained 
employment for a few days ; at the conclusion of 
which, I obtained a birth on board of one of the 
Packets plying between Providence and New-York, 
in which business 1 continued (with the exception of a 
part of the time that 1 was occasionally employed on 
shore,) eight or nine years—some few of the packet 
masters with whom 1 have sailed, and some for 
whom I occasionally wrought on shore, are still liv¬ 
ing. 

Feeling a strong inclination once more to visit the 
chores of the south, where l had not only been un¬ 
justly deprived of my liberty, but where I was in¬ 
humanly forced from a beloved wife and two darling 
children, I took passage (about fifteen years since) 
on board a sloop for Baltimore, and from thence pro* 
ceeded direct to Georgetown. As twenty years had 
elapsed since I there left all that I held most dear in life 
—and so great a change had time effected in my per¬ 
sonal appearance, I felt little or no apprehension that 
I should be recognized or molested by any, if living, 
who once professed a claim to me. In this 1 was 
not mistaken, for indeed as regarded the town, in¬ 
habitants, &c. so great a change had the twenty years 
produced, that I walked the streets at mid-day un- 
noti ed and unknown. My old master (Voorhis and 
his wife had been some years dead, and the survi¬ 
vors of the family had removed to parts unknown— 
Bevins, the wretch by whom l was unjustly depriv¬ 
ed of my liberty, and thereby forever seperated from 
my unfortunate family, had a few years previous 
emigrated to the west—but, the principle object of 
my visit was not answered—of my wife and children 
I could obtain no satisfactory information—all that I 
could learn, was, that soon after my disappearance, 


m 


LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 


their sufferings and deprivations became so great, tha* 
my poor wife in a tit of desparation, as was supposed* 
put an end to her existence, anti that her helpless 
children did not long survive hei !—this was enough ! 
yea more than enough, to fill to the brim the bitter 
cup of my afflictions !—afflictions which had more or 
less attended me through life 1—I then ft It but little 
desire to live, as there was nothing then remaining 
to attach me to this world—and it was at that moment 
that I formed the determination to retire from it— 
to become a recluse, and mingle thereafter as little 
as possible with human society. 

With this determination l returned direct to Rhode 
Island, and soon after selected a retired spot well 
suited to my purpose, being an extreme point of 
uninhabbed land (Fox Point) situated a 1 out one mile 
south of Providence bridge—there I built me a hut 
and dwelt peaceably therein for several years, and 
until annoyed and discommoded by the youth of the 
town, and by labourers employed in levelling the 
hill in the neighborhood of my dwelling—I then ap¬ 
plied to and obtained the consent of the gentleman 
(Hon. Tristam Burgiss) to whom the land belongs, 
to build this hut, and permission to improve the spot 
of ground enclosed during my life — here in solitude I 
have dwelt more than six years— once or twice a week 
and sometimes oftener) I leave my recess, cross o- 
ver the bridge into Providence, converse a little 
with those with whom 1 have become acquainted, 
obtain a few necessaries, and return again well sat¬ 
isfied to my peaceable dwelling.” 

Here Robert concluded his narrative, and which 
the writer, with very little variation, recorded as he 
received it from his own lips—in dates, Robertmy a 
not have been perfectly correct, as he does not pro¬ 
fess to be very positive as to his exact age—but, in 


ROBERT THE HERMIT. 


27 


every other particular, not a doubt remains on the 
mind of the writer but that Robert (according to 
his be&t recollection) undeviatingly related facts as 
they occurred—the writer thinks that he may safely 
draw this conclusion, from the circumstance of hav¬ 
ing visited him three days successively, and that his 
replies to the most strict enquiries on the third day, 
agreed perfectly with the particulars of his narration 
on the first and second—and a3 he has heretofore 
manifested an unwillingness to disclose to any one 
the secret of his adventures, it is not probable that 
he formed and committed to memory a story with 
which to deceive ihe public, and in which there is 
not a word of truth—no, those who are best ac¬ 
quainted with “ poor artless Robert” know him in¬ 
capable of such a piece of deception. 

Robert, is apparently about 60 years of age, a 
little short of six feet v in height, inclined to corpu¬ 
lency, his features perfectly regular, and of a com¬ 
plexion but a shade or two darker than that of many 
who profess to be and pass for whites—in his early 
years he states that it was much more fair, but of 
late years having been so much exposed to the smoke 
of his cell, has become mnch changed—the lower 
part of his face is covered with a thick and curly 
beard, of a jet black, and of uncommon length—his 
garments (or many of them) are of his own manu¬ 
facture, and whenever a breach appears in any one 
article, it is either closed by him in a bungling 
manner, with needle and iwine, or a patch is appli¬ 
ed without regard to Ihe quality or colour of the 
cloth. The tattered surtoul coat commonly worn by 
him, in his excursions abroad in winter, in imitation 
of the military, he ha* fancifully faced with red, 
in which (with a cap of the same cloth and with his 
long beard) it would not be very surprizing if he 
should sometimes be viewed by strangers, as some 


38 


LIKE AND ADVENTURES OF 


distinguished embassador from the court of Tom- 
buctoo, or one of the loyal subjects of the Grand 
Seniour, clad in the military costume of his coun¬ 
try.—[O^r See Frontispiece.] 

Robert is remarkab y abstemious and otherwise 
correct in his habits—never known to he guilty of 
profanity—is civil and agreeable in his manners, po¬ 
lite and condescending to a!l who visit him, and al- 
way willing to gratify the curiosity of such as feel 
disposed to inspect the internal part of his cell—and 
ever grateful for presents made him. Heappears 
perfectly reconciled to and satisfied with his retired 
situation, and on the writer’s expressing some sur¬ 
prize that he should prefer a secluded life, to that 
of the enjoyment of society, he observed that he 
had been too long the subject of the fr owns and per¬ 
secutions of a portion of his fellow beings, to derive 
that pleasure and satisfaction from their society which 
the less unfortunate might naturally enjoy. 

The walls of his cave or cell, are constructed 
principally of round stones, of inconsiderable size 
rudely thrown together, and externally have as much 
the appearance of being the produce of nature as of 
art; and although they forma square of thirty or 
forty feet in circumference, yet are so thick and 
massy, as to enclose only a single apartment of not 
sufficient size to contain more than two or three 
persons at a time, and so low as not to admit of t heir 
standing erect, and indeed is in every respect of 
much less comfortable construction than many of our 
pig pens !—about the centre there is a fire place 
rudely formed, from which proceeds a flue in form 
of a chimney—and at the extreme end of his cell 
Robert has constructed a birth or bunk, in which, 
filled with rags and straw, he reposes at night— 
beside the fire-place stands a block, detached from 
the butt ef an oak, which not only serves him for 


ROBERT THE HERMIT. 


m 


a seat and table, but being partly hollow, inverted, 
for a morter, in which he occasionally pounds his 
corn, and of which when sufficiently refined, he man¬ 
ufactures his bread—in cooking utensils Robert is 
quite deficient—the one half of an iron pot is the 
only article made use of by him, in which he pre¬ 
pares his food —a small piece of iron hoop serves 
him for a knife, and a few articles of damaged delf 
ware, and an old sea bucket, for the conveyance of 
water from a neighboring spring, are nearly the 
whole contents of his wretched hovel r-the materi¬ 
als of which the roof is constructed, are similar to 
those which compose the walls of his cell ; and al¬ 
though of many tons in weight, is altogether sup¬ 
ported by a few slender half decayed props, on the 
strength of which depends the life of poor Robert, 
should they fail, without the possibility of an escape, 
his hut would instantaniously become his grave !— 
It is to obtain for him a more safe and convenient 
habitation, that has induced the author to issue this 
work, a great proportion of the profits of which 
will be devoted to that purpose. 

To his gloomy cell there are but one or two aper¬ 
tures or loopholes, for the admission of light which 
in winter are completely closed (as is every crack 
and crevice) with seaweed—this renders the apart¬ 
ment still more dark and gloomy than it otherwise 
would be, as when the door is closed to expel the 
cold, Robert remains within, day and night, in almost 
total darkness. In summer Robert employs a con¬ 
siderable portion of his time in the cultivation of a 
small spot of ground, contiguous to his hut, of 7 or 
3 rods square, which he has inclosed in an ingenious 
manner with small twigs, and interwoven branches of 
hemlock and juniper—the soil is so extremely bar¬ 
ren and unproductive, that it seldom produces an¬ 
nually more than three or four bushels of potatoes, 


30 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 


a peck or two of corn, and a few quarts of beans !-— 
yet with this small rrop, Robert is apparently bet¬ 
ter satisfied and more thankful than many, whose in¬ 
satiable thirst for worldly gain, leads them, not to arj 
acknowledgment of gratitude due the Supreme Au¬ 
thor of all good gifts, but rather (in imitation of the 
one of whom we read) to most bitter complaints, that 
their barns are not of sufficient size to contain their 
abundant crops i 

Having been told that Robert devoted a portion cf 
his time to reading, I offered to present him with 
a Bible, and some religious Tracts, for which he ap¬ 
peared grateful, but informed me that he was already 
in possession of both—the .gift of a pious lady of 
Providence—which led me to make some enquiries as 
regarded his religious sentiments—his opinion of the 
existence of a Supreme Being—of the immortality 
of the soul—of future rewards and punishments, &c. 
—to which he unhesitatingly replied, that he never 
doubted the existence of a Supreme Being, from 
whom although invisible to us, nothing could be 
concealed and to whom he believed we were all ac¬ 
countable beings, and would hereafter receive re¬ 
wards or punishments according to the deeds of the 
body—from this belief he said he derived great con¬ 
solation—for, although great had been his trials and 
troubles in this world, he was not without a hope, 
that by complying with the terms of the gospel of a 
blessed Redeemer, he might be permitted in another 
to participate in those eternal enjoyments which 
were the promised rewards of the faithful. 

Humble a^d retired as may he the situation of 
Robert, if such truly are his sentiments, and such his 
well grounded hopes, altho' his bed may be straw, and 
his table a block—he must be acknowledged a hap¬ 
py man. That man is capable in private of an inter¬ 
course with his Maker, there are many living wit¬ 
nesses to prove, without having receurse to the 


ROBERT THE HERMIT. 


31 


visions of fanatics', or to the dreams of enthusiasts 
in an assimilating state of purity, they v have union 
with their Maker, 1 hus disposed, the Creator com¬ 
municates himself to the soul, in a manner, which 
is as insensible to the natural eye, as are the falling 
dews. Enthusiasm has swelled with unnatural con¬ 
ceptions, and obtruded a spurious offspring on the 
world, instead of the engaging child of reason and 
truth—whilst the luke-warm have rested in a few 
outward duties, which have had no vigour, and as 
they spring not from the heart, never entered the 
temple of the Most High. Real piety is of a very 
differennt and of a much more animated nature: it 
looks up to God, sees, hears, feels him in every e- 
vent, in every vicissitude, in all places, at Ml seasons, 
and upon ail occasons. It is theory verified by ex¬ 
perience , it is faith substantiated by mental enjoy¬ 
ment ; .it is heaven transplanted in the human bosom ; 
it is the radiance of the divinity warning and encir¬ 
cling man, It is a spiritual sense gratified by spiritual 
sensations — without this all ceremonies are ineffi¬ 
cacious. The sick, the sorrowful, and the discon¬ 
tented, may find equal relief in Solitude ; it adminis¬ 
ters a balm to their tortured souls, heals the deep 
and painful wounds thay have received, and in time 
restores them their prestine health and vigour. Sor¬ 
row, misfortune, and sickness soon render Solitude 
easy and familiar to our minds. How willingly do 
we renounce the world, and become indifferent to all 
its pleasures, when the insidious eloquence of the 
passions is silenced, and our powers are debilitated 
by vexation of ill health ! It is then we perceive the 
weakness of thoso succours which the world affords 
—the mind then seeks a balm in Religion, and be¬ 
comes more disposed to seek “its Guardian Angel 
and its God.” 

On Robert’s being questioned whether he would 
not rather prefer the society of his fellow-beings, te 


33 LIFE AND ADVENTURES GF 


living any longer a secluded solitary life, his reply 
was nearly as follows—“ No ! in my solitary abode, 
secluded from the society of mankink. what pleasure 
have 1 enjoyed in contemplating the goodness of the 
Almighty ; and should my life be prolonged to double 
the number of years ivhich I have already passed, I 
would prefer a secluded life to that of mingling with 
the inhabitants of a world producing so many tempta¬ 
tions calculated to beguile them from the paths of 
virtue and morality, Heaven is witness that in this 
rocky cavern, 1 enjoy more happy moments than 
where I passed in iny laughing youth in the pursuit 
and indulgence of what is termed worldly pleasures 
— if 1 am not soothed by flattery, 1 am not wounded 
by ingratitude—• if 1 have it not in my power vainly 
to boast of superior lie, 1 am not the object of calum¬ 
niating envy and I am now too fir removed into the 
the shade of scorn to point its finger at me; my hopes 
no longer rest on vain, idle, fallacious objects, on 
private friendship or public justice ; they b*ive now 
a more durable foundation—-they rest on Heaven. 

After Robert’s first marriage, he worked several 
months in Baltimore, where he was much esteemed 
and respected for his honesty and industry*--and 
sppaking of the inhabitants of that city, he says, “I 
ever found them (with very few exceptions) hospita¬ 
ble, kind and obliging, and very different in their 
dispositions and manners than what has been repre¬ 
sented by many of the New Engl am* people, who 
notwithstanding their ^prejudices would suffer in a 
comparison with them for their civility and hospitali¬ 
ty to strangers—while 1 remained in Baltimore so fir 
from receiving aa insuR from any one, 1 was always 
treated with that civility and politeness which char¬ 
acterizes the true gentleman, and for whomever I 
wrought I was always paid my wages punctually, and 
without any disposition on their part to deprive the 


ROBERT THE HERMIT. 


33 

labourer by art or knavery of his hard earned pit¬ 
tance. Although there are many who possess Slaves 
in Maryland, yet they are generally well fed and 
cloathed, and treated with much more humanity than 
what they are in the Carolinas*--indeed many of them 
are better off and live more comfortable than what 
the free blacks do in New-England, who boast so 
much of their freedom, and it is a fact that many of 
the Slaves at the South in their foolish attempts to 
escape have suffered more by hunger and deprivation 
than what they would by a life of servitude,” 

In this opinion Robert is no doubt correct, a3 in 
proof a remarkable instance occurred in North Car¬ 
olina about. 14years ago, the particulars appeared in 
many of our public prints, at that time, yet as they 
may have escaped the notice of many of our readers, 
we have thought that it would not be improper to re¬ 
publish them—they are from the pen of a respecta¬ 
ble* gentleman of Petersburgh, communicated to his 
friend in New-York.—they follow ; 

“ While I resided in Newbern, N.C. in 1814, be¬ 
ing informed that a Negro woman and two small 
children, had been that day brought in. who had been 
runaways for several years, I felt a wish to go and 
see them paiticularly as there was something curi 
ous connected with their- history. My friend ac¬ 
companied me to the jail, for they had been lodged 
there for safe keeping. —We there learned the par¬ 
ticulars of the life which they lived, or rather the 
miserable existence which they dragged out, during 
the seven years which they had spent in the swamps, 
in the neighborhood of Newbern. 

The owner of this woman, about seven years pre¬ 
viously, removed to the western country, and car¬ 
ried with him all his Hives, except this woman 
and an infant girl, then in the arms of its mother, 

F 


34 LIFE and adventures of 


who, rather than be separated from her husband* 
who was owned by another person, timely eloped 
with her child, and completely , avoided the vigi¬ 
lance of her pursuers. 

Those who are acquainted with the lower sec¬ 
tion of that state, well know that it abounds in 
marshes and fens over grown with weeds, and in¬ 
terspersed, in some places with clumps of pine 
trees. In one of those dreary retreats this woman 
found means to conceal herself for the space o 
seven years : and to find means also for her sub¬ 
sistence, partly by her own exertions and the as¬ 
sistance of her husband, who would occasionally 
make her a visit,. Living in this situation, she soon 
had an additional burthen upon her hands by the 
birth of another child. 

The manner in which she concealed herself 
as well as her children from the discovery, was 
truly singular. By the strictest discipline she pre¬ 
vented them ever crying aloud ; she compelled them 
to stifle their little cries and complaints, though 
urged to it by pinching hunger, or the severest 
cold. She prohibited them from speaking louder 
than a whisper. This may appear strange to re¬ 
late, but it is certainly true ; and as a proof that 
no deception was used in this case it was satisfac¬ 
torily ascertained, that after they had remained in 
town for more than a month, in the company of 
children who were noisy and clamorous, they were 
not known in a single instance to raise their voices 
higher than a soft whisper. At first, it was with 
great difficulty that they could stand or walk erect, 
and when they did attempt to walk, it was with 
a low stoop, the bust inclining forward, and with 
a hasty step like a patridge. But their favorite 
position was that of squatting upon their hams, 
la this posture, they could remain for hours with- 


ROBERT THE HERMIT. 


S3 


•ut any apparent weariness, and at a given signal 
would move one after the other with great facility, 
anrl at the same tune with so much caution, that 
not the least noise could be heard by their footsteps. 

Their method for subsistence was the most ex^ 
traordinary ; sometimes the husband, according to 
the woman’s account would fail to bring them sup¬ 
plies ; and whether the fear of detection prevented 
her from intruding on the rights of others, or wheth¬ 
er she was prevented by conscientious motives is 
not for me to determine—but in this dreadful ex¬ 
igence, she would, for the support of herself and 
•bildren, have recourse to expedients which nothing 
but the most pressing necessity couhl ever suggest. 

Frogs and terrapins were considered as rare dain¬ 
ties, and even snakes would be taken ?s a lawful 
prize to satisfy the calls of hunger.— It was the 
custom, said the woman in the little family, when 
they made up a fire in the night, and this was done 
only in the cold nights of winter, for one to sit 
up, while the others slept. The one who watched 
had a double duty to peiform—not only to do the 
ordinary duty of a centinel, but to watch for mien ; 
which they contrived iu the following manner. The 
person watching, would spread a little meat on the 
ground, or a few grains of corn or peas, or for 
want of these, a crust of bread when they had it ; 
over which an old handkerchief or piece of cloth, 
was spread, then observing a profound and death¬ 
like silence, the mice would creep from their re¬ 
treats in order to possess ihemselves of the bait. 
-—The centinel, true to his post, as soon as the 
oloth was moved by the vagrant mouse, would 
very dexteriously smack down a pair of hands up¬ 
on him, and secure him for purposes yet to be 
m ntioned. The flesh, as m iy he supposed, waft 
uaed for food, which they devoured with as little 


36 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF . 


ceremony as a boy would eat a snow bird ; but e- 
ven the skin was not thrown away : for they being 
carefully preserved, the hair or fur was picked off, 
and mixed with wool or cotton for the purpose of 
making gloves and stockings —and they managed to 
spin up the materials they could procure, by means 
of a stick, about 9ix or eight inches in length. 
—This wa3 held in the left hand, while, with the 
right, they held the materials to be spun, they gave 
us a specimen of their adroitness in this art ; and 
the little boy, who was not above five years old, 
could manage his stick with surprising dexterity. 
—Several pair of stockings and gloves were shown, 
which had been knit by these singular beings, du¬ 
ring their voluntary banishment.—They were grotes¬ 
que enough in their appearance, and were made 
up of a greater medly of materials than are general¬ 
ly used in the civilized world. 

How much longer this deluded African, with 
her two wretched children. would have remained 
in the comfortless savannahs of North Carolina, 
is not known, had not the woman been deserted by 
her husband:—Being deprived of the solace she 
derived from his transient visits, and the scanty 
subsistence she received from his hand, her situa¬ 
tion became miserable beyond description. At length 
emaciated with hunger she crept to the road, gave 
herself up with her equally meagre looking charge, 
to the first person she saw, who happened very 
fortunately to be a man, with his cart going to¬ 
wards town—the sight indeed, to the citizen, was 
a novel one, if we may judge fiom the number; 
who crowded to see and determine for themselves, 9 

H 2.22 85 *«' 










































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